


You Think It Was The Cat

by felixies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixies/pseuds/felixies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You find yourself in the middle of an unusual fight in the den of 221B Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Think It Was The Cat

You walk into 221B Baker Street, back from getting milk and groceries for the upcoming week. As soon as you close the door, you hear shouting from upstairs. 

"Mycroft, you insolent cretin! How you were able to make it this far in life so far is beyond my own comprehension!" Hearing Sherlock and Mycroft argue is a frequent occurrence, especially since he came back after two years of dismantling Moriarty's network. You walk up to the door to his den and see Sherlock pacing with his harpoon. You expect to see Mycroft as well, twiddling with his umbrella, but he is nowhere to be found. 

"Did he leave?" 

"Did who leave?" Sherlock asks.

"Mycroft of course. I was downstairs when I heard you shouting. It's a bit weird that I didn't hear his retorts," you explain. Just then you hear a soft meow. You look towards the fireplace and see a small grey cat sitting on the green chair. Sherlock's chair. Unable to contain yourself, you let out a small sound of glee as you walk over to the cat. "What an adorable kitten," you coo as you scratch the underside of the cat's head who is mewing in delight. You hear a grumble behind you.

"That cat is not adorable. Just look at him, rude sitting on my chair like he owns the place. I told him to move, but he just stared at me," Sherlock complains as he points the harpoon towards the cat, as if ready to attack him. 

Ignoring his childish explanation and pushing the harpoon tip away, you ask, "Where did you get him in the first place?"

"I'm working on a case involving an animal shelter and I nicked the feline to examine the residue on its fur."

"You adopted him. How cute." Imagining Sherlock argue and stare down this cat leaves you laughing. "You were yelling at this kitten? And you named him Mycroft?" you ask, bemuse of the situation playing in your head.

"I thought it appropriate. Lazing about on things that don't belong to him." The kitten finds some crumbs nearby and starts eating. "Not to mention his gluttonous habit. Bad cat!" he shouts pointing his hand at the feline. Kitten Mycroft takes this as an invitation to start licking the tip of Sherlock's fingers. You find it unbelievable, but you see Sherlock's mouth twitching slightly, unable to contain the situation transpiring in front of him. Almost smiling, he quickly masks it with a frown. It's like you can almost see his heart start to grow three sizes larger. He walks away, grumbling, "That cat is still on my seat."


End file.
